


Hard in the Paint

by nuitdemesreves (mesohorany)



Category: SKAM (France)
Genre: Body Painting because I took that scene and ran with it, M/M, Oral Fixation, Oral Sex, Oral sex in the SHOWER because yes, PWP, Plot What Plot, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shower Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-09
Updated: 2019-03-09
Packaged: 2019-11-14 15:03:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18054794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mesohorany/pseuds/nuitdemesreves
Summary: Before today, Lucas never truly understood the magnificence of the color spectrum, but Eliott is more than happy to show him. Basically a far more in-depth depiction of the mural scene + my idea of what could have happened afterward. Title is crack, fic is not.





	Hard in the Paint

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah so the title of this one is TOTAL crack (I literally took it from a shitty Waka Flocka Flame song) but it was one of the first thoughts that ran through my head when I thought of this story and I couldn't resist, because yeah they DID go hard in the motherfucking paint. Hope you guys like dirty!sex (and also shower sex because obviously that's where this kind of scenario would lead) ;)

Before today, Lucas never truly understood the magnificence of the color spectrum.

He is glowing hues and sighs and sounds and breath, blurs and bliss, _enraptured_. Eliott against him is warm and sure and his mouth tastes like salt, joy, water. The want between them is material, you could touch it if you moved your hand just so, and when Eliott licks between Lucas’s lips he falls to pieces from desire. They are a kaleidoscope motion, moving shifting twining together, no space to thread a string between them. When Lucas pushes back to pull his shirt over his sticky head Eliott watches him with that softness in his eyes but this time the tenderness is edged by something else, something primal, vulpine.

 _Hunger_.

There is nothing in the world now but this, the way Eliott’s skin feels against Lucas’s chest, Eliott’s huge hands curling around the back of his neck to stroke through the mess of his spiky hair, his tongue searching first under Lucas’s top lip, then the bottom, along the straightedge of his teeth, curious. Lucas has spent his most recent days living like a live wire, a malfunction, a small huddled curl of melancholia, but for Eliott he comes to _searing_ life. _I don’t care, Eliott and I are not together_ , he’d practiced chanting to anyone who asked, but he hadn’t believed himself, not once. He cared, he cares, and he will care, for as long as he can see into the future. Eliott is a whirling star and Lucas is consumed.

Eliott lets Lucas lead; it is clear that he understands Lucas’s fragility, understands that he has been drowning in uncertainty, but now he is driven, a singleminded bull as it rushes a matador’s cape. Lucas knows what he wants and he knows that it is Eliott’s body flush to his own, both of them spattered and decorated in thick globs of paint, streaks of purple across Lucas’s left forearm, muted hunter green slashing across the canyons of Eliott’s porcelain abdomen. Lucas steps out of his pants and then Eliott is doing the same and they are panting, naked, feral; lost boys painting war streaks down each other’s chests. They are careless and reckless and anyone could walk in but no one stays around school for shit on a late Friday afternoon and Lucas would risk all the trouble in the world for the sensation of Eliott’s fingertips brushing down the rungs of his spine, the full curve of his ass when Lucas gets his hands around it. The motion pulls his hips and torso against Eliott’s own and the contact forces both of them to suck in hasty, choked breaths; Lucas has never been more aroused in his life and he’s going glow-dark at the edges of his vision for the abrupt vortex suck of blood away from his head. Eliott is huge and hot and _hard_ against his thigh and the way he moves is just as assured as it is shy and Lucas doesn’t think when he walks Eliott back against the wall.

Eliott kisses his forehead with paint-smeared lips, rests his chin at the top of Lucas’s head, and Lucas feels safe and tingly and _good_.

“My little hedgehog,” says Eliott, and there is a purring smile in his voice that brings a power surge of verve to Lucas’s chest. “So small.”

“I can’t help you’re a _giant_ ,” grumbles Lucas, but it’s good natured; he’d never known how much he would enjoy being sheltered and shadowed until Eliott, so much taller and broader, showed him what it felt like when he pulled him close and kissed him in the rain.

“The better to throw you around,” says Eliott, and Lucas pulls back at that and looks him in his trickster eyes and they are _gleaming_ , nothing but sensuality. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Eliott licks across Lucas’s full parted lips, clear intention.

“Who’s got you up against the wall, huh,” says Lucas, rusty husk in his tone, before he shoves forward and grinds his hips up so Eliott drops his head back and _moans_. There is nothing in the world like the sound of Eliott’s voice when he’s wrecked, his tone drops by strangled octaves, so much pleasure. This is all they want to do, learn how the other moves and trembles and gasps, slow and slow and _slow_ until Lucas’s belly is shuddering from the shattering sensation of nerves. When he’s not coherent Eliott pushes him gently away from the wall, keeping contact steady between them, and kneels with Lucas on the paint tarp, on their knees kissing like the other is air. With no trace of his former delicacy Eliott gets Lucas on his back, straddles him, all assurance, and when he bends to kiss him Lucas groans into his mouth. He has never had a taste of this, how good it can feel to be this near to another human being, all nerve endings and bliss. His fingers tangle and untangle in Eliott’s paint-fucked hair and he keeps drawing back to look in Eliott’s eyes, assure himself that this is real. When he comes it spatters thick and warm between them, daubed just as paint across their skin, and he thinks he will never stop. He has been pent-up since Eliott looked at him for the first time in the common room, hasty masturbation sessions bringing him nothing but temporary shameful relief. The truth is the only thing that can bring him to true satisfaction right now is Eliott. Eliott with his half-mast cloud eyes, rucking down hard against Lucas’s hips, _fuck fuck fuck_ on his beautiful mouth as he explodes over Lucas’s belly, and watching him with his fingers bending around the scruff of his neck Lucas knows his recovery time is going to be nothing at all. He wants to keep Eliott all over him, wants to absorb his scent, lick across the arch of his hipbones and down the indentation of his sternum. Get his hands in places he’s barely dared dream of until Eliott is moaning for him again.

“Lucas,” says Eliott, destroyed, and Lucas kisses him so he can taste the tail end of his name leaving Eliott’s mouth. It tastes like redemption.

*

There is no cleaning up after they’ve done something like _that_ so they leave the disaster of paint as it is, pull on their heavy clothes, grinning sheepishly at each other all the while. “Modern,” Eliott calls the disarray they’ve left behind, “inspired.” And Lucas looks at the chaos rainbow of mural and says,

“I don’t know if I’d call the imprints of our ass cheeks ‘inspired’, but we’re going with it.”

When Eliott laughs out loud Lucas feels like he might merge with the sky for all the happiness that flourishes spring-like in his chest.

Having no extra clothes to save themselves there is nothing for it but to venture forth into the world as they are and so they go, hand in hand, overheated and revved but all euphoria. Waiting at the bus stop Eliott looks at Lucas and gives that sunray grin and says,

“Where to?”

“Yours,” says Lucas, and smiles. “There’s a good chance that at least one of my flatmates will be at mine, and an even better chance that at least one of them will throw a shit fit if we track paint everywhere.” 

Eliott laughs.

“Perfect,” he says. “My shower is more than big enough for us both.” 

Lucas catches his eye and understands that their thought process is quite the same: Eliott isn’t finished, either; hasn’t come close to satiation, still wants Lucas all over _him_. The recognition passes like clarity between them and impulsively Lucas draws Eliott in by the front of his hoodie and kisses him, there where they stand, out in the open. Anyone can see and it’s a declaration that Eliott hasn’t yet heard him speak: _this is us, here we are. Fuck them_ , Mika had said, and Lucas has taken it to heart.

On the bus their messy appearance draws stares from everyone but they cluster around a pole in the middle of the vehicle, uncaring that they are the center of attention because they can’t see or hear anyone else, their senses are only attuned to each other now. _You’re the only thing that’s mattered since I met you_ , Eliott had said, and he’s making that clear now, all of his attention zeroed in on Lucas, his every movement, the way his paint-hardened hair sticks up just so on the left side, the dark heat in his eyes. Lucas is aware of Eliott’s gaze on his parted lips and the space separating them is smaller every second, the bus ride so incomprehensibly long as to be mania-inducing. They’ve been after each other for so long that now that the hunt has ceased their desire has increased a thousandfold. Now they can have what they’ve dreamed about for days.

Lucas gets on tiptoe, brings his mouth to Eliott’s ear, whispers through the barriers of paint and hair.

“You’re not sleeping tonight.”

Eliott pulls back so he can look into Lucas’s eyes and arches one messy eyebrow.

“Is that a promise?”

“An oath,” says Lucas, and Eliott smirks. He loves this, loves that his hedgehog has spikes, that he’s feisty and he’s finally, finally speaking his mind. To watch him blossom will be an incomparable thing.

The instant Eliott keys them into his flat Lucas is on him, launching up to attack his mouth, savagery reflective of his war paint. Eliott gets one arm around Lucas’s hips and slams the door behind them with his free hand and hauls him blind through the apartment, into the bathroom, clothes peeling off in clusters, no time to undress layer by layer. They pile shirts and pants and boxers in a multicolored heap by the bathroom door and as a precautionary measure – there is no one home, but that could change at any moment, especially since Eliott is planning to keep Lucas in the shower until hot water is a mere memory – Eliott throws the deadbolt before he leans into the shower and gets the water going. Lucas is behind him licking a stripe up his spine, disregarding the paint on Eliott’s skin; he’s pretty sure if they were going to have to call poison control for paint consumption they’d both be fucked by now and besides he’s already established that he’s _pas peur, pas peur, pas peur._

Eliott turns around, drags Lucas against him. Kisses him openmouthed and sloppy with his fingers fisted in Lucas’s hair, smearing his colors, and Lucas is fine with it because since he’s met Eliott he’s started to see shades and hues he’s never known _existed_. If Eliott wants to make a palette of him he is fine with it, wants Eliott to mix their colors again, the green and purple and yellow and blue, the color of his eyes. He remembers watching the cream spurts of their come mix on his stomach and shudders for it and when he shoves Eliott back into the shower it’s with such force they both almost tumble over, laughing through the kiss, Eliott’s teeth closing over Lucas’s lower lip.

“Look at you,” he says, low. “You’re so different. Not shy at all.”

“You brought this out of me,” says Lucas frankly, running his palms down Eliott’s sides, the curves of his sharp hipbones. Under his hands the water mixes with the paints, muddy rainbow “You did this for me. I was scared of myself until I met you. But you saw me, and you made me realize that there was no reason to be afraid.”

Eliott’s smile is unadulterated pleasure.

“I do see you,” he says, and runs his forehead across Lucas’s own. “And what I see is beautiful, my little hedgehog.”

Lucas kisses him, tempered and sweet, and then Eliott jerks him in so they’re both directly under the fierce flow of hot water, color everywhere, a jumble of skin and paint. Eliott’s spine is flat against the shower wall and Lucas has a thigh between Eliott’s knees but he wants to learn Eliott’s body with his fingerprints and his palms and his tongue and so he tastes, touches, feels. Fingers tracing the outline of Eliott’s bones, the heaving muscles of his stomach, the soft skin of his inner thighs, and when he rubs the heel of his palm up the granite length of Eliott’s cock they both hiss. Lucas looks in Eliott’s eyes, seeking confirmation, and Eliott gives it with a single glance. He closes his fingers around Lucas’s wrist, guides the motion of his hand, and when Lucas runs his thumb over the slick head of his cock he whimpers.

Lucas watches him fascinated.

“Okay?”

“Yes,” grinds Eliott through his teeth, so Lucas begins to stroke him in earnest, close enough that when Eliott gives that involuntary twitch of pleasure their hips are matched once again. Eliott’s free hand is mapping Lucas’s back, squeezing his ass and the nape of his neck, finding the framework of his shoulderblades; fucking up the wet mess of his hair only to smooth it down again. Shuddery-hot comes his breath and his lack of stamina is _embarrassing_ but never in his life has another person brought him to such vivacity.

He lets Lucas bring him so close his stomach coils with burgeoning orgasm and then he reaches between them and stills his hand. The water has barely begun to dent the thick layers of paint canvassing their bodies; he won’t be ended just yet, not before he has gotten his say.

“Let me wash you,” he whispers against Lucas’s mouth, and Lucas nods, all wide eyes and open heart, so Eliott soaps his hands and traces them over the length of Lucas’s torso, over his shoulders, down his back. He rubs until he can barely see color through the white of the foam and Lucas is purring from the sensation. Against Eliott’s stomach he is hard as a rock and when Eliott gets a hand between his legs he groans aloud.

In silence as comfortable as sleep they swipe layer after layer of paint from each other’s skin until the only color remaining is a thick streak of paint down the stark blade of Lucas’s cheekbone, echoes of their little battle. Eliott leaves it. He wants to be reminded. When he brings Lucas’s hand to his mouth and sucks his index finger all the way in Lucas’s eyes go planet-huge and the color of them pops against the heavy green line.

Deliberately Eliott slides off, opens his mouth wider to bring another of Lucas’s fingers inside, pulls them deep so Lucas’s fingertips brush the back of his throat. Lucas has suddenly lost the capacity to breathe and he smacks one hand back against the shower wall to keep himself upright and when Eliott recognizes the state of desperation he is in he _smirks._ He suckles at Lucas’s fingers, suction creating a vacuum, and as he does he reaches between them and bats at the overflowing head of Lucas’s cock.

Lucas swears.

“Jesus Christ.”

Eliott chuckles, soft, and opens his mouth so he can speak. “Yeah?” Muffled.

Lucas gives him a look. “Eliott, you’re deep-throating my fingers, what do you think?”

Eliott pops off again, licks slow between Lucas’s index and middle. The eye contact they make is underworld hot, Hades flames. “Had to check. You weren’t making yourself clear.” 

“No?” Lucas takes Eliott’s hand, presses it firm to his twitching cock. “This clear enough for you?”

Eliott twists his mouth, surge of arousal slashing his belly, and he looks steadily back and forth between Lucas’s eyes before he drops slow to his knees before him. Never looking away, never releasing Lucas’s wrist, the water slicking his hair back flat and he knows how he looks with his pouty mouth and his demon eyes.

“Is this?”

Lucas is _ruined_. He rakes a hand back through Eliott’s hair, unstable for the way Eliott bats at his cock with his nose, nuzzles the length with his forehead and his lips and his chin. When Eliott licks a slow wet stripe across the slit Lucas grits his teeth against the clear warble of sound that pushes up through his chest. For a moment Eliott plays, taunts, tortures; he is an _expert_ at cock worship and Lucas thinks of the way he raised his eyebrows when Lucas asked _am I your first guy_ and wonders how he learned, who taught him. He doesn’t care. He is blurry at his edges and breathless and when Eliott swallows the length of him he can’t hold it anymore.

“ _Fuck_.”

Eliott splays his big hands on Lucas’s thighs and ducks like he’s bobbing for apples; Lucas can’t believe how deep he can take him, easy like Lucas’s fingers, no sign of discomfort in his eyes. Lucas’s knees are already weak and he can’t think and he can’t see for the blackness that’s suddenly overtaking the corners of his vision and he is all sensation, everything centered around those screaming nerve endings, Eliott’s mouth butter-warm and hollowed around him. Eliott moves his hands from Lucas’s thighs to clamp around his ass, pull him in deeper, and Lucas almost stumbles from the destructive pleasure, relying on Eliott to hold him up, his hand still pushed back against the wall. Helpless, and that’s how Eliott wants him. He’s purring around Lucas’s cock, sighing against the velvety hardness of his skin, and he knows Lucas can feel the sound from the way his stomach clenches when Eliott vocalizes. Lucas flattened against the wall with his pupils blown and his head thrown back and his pretty strawberry bruise-pout of a mouth in an O is the most beautiful thing Eliott has ever seen. When he shudders Eliott knows what he is going to say.

“Eliott, I’m fucking close.”

“Mmhmm,” mumbles Eliott happily around his mouthful, the salt slick of Lucas’s precome sharp on his tongue, and he pats Lucas’s ass to let him know that yes, it’s okay, I want you to. So Lucas clenches a hand around Eliott’s shoulder and digs his nails in and concentrates every free thought in his mind around keeping himself upright as the world goes star-white and he comes hard down Eliott’s throat, wave upon wave upon wave, Eliott clutching him like an anchor. Keening, swearing, grit-teeth and grimacing but blissed out like he never understood was possible. The second he can stabilize he reaches down and yanks Eliott to his feet, so fast Eliott doesn’t fully have time to swallow, and the shock of his own salt on Eliott’s tongue is jarring in the best possible way.

“You’re,” says Lucas, hot, “incredible.”

Eliott beams. “You think so?" 

“Uh, Eliott,” says Lucas, “I don’t know if you know this, but I’ve never come so hard in my life.”

Eliott laughs out loud. “You continue to surprise me.”

“I do what I can,” says Lucas, and then he reaches between them still with his own strange taste cloying on his lips and takes Eliott’s straining cock in his hand. Eliott _aches_ for him.

“Lucas – ”

“What do you want, Eliott?” Lucas’s voice is raw and it’s clear what he’s asking: _where do you want to come_.

Eliott loves the way Lucas says his name; he waited so long to hear it and now he thinks he will never tire of the sound. “Stay up here with me,” he whispers. “I want to kiss you through it.”

So Lucas stays, presses his kiss-bruised lips hard to Eliott’s own before he takes up that earlier killing rhythm that nearly brought Eliott to such hasty orgasm. Eliott is still fucked from that and he has a thing for sucking cock so he’s already close, close, close. Lucas loves the way he pants and whimpers and quivers for it, loves the needy clench of Eliott’s fingers through his hair and around his forearm, and when Eliott comes hard and hot into Lucas’s palm he brings his hand to his mouth and licks the taste of him into his mouth. Eliott watches him through lidded eyes and shakes his head, enthralled, worked up for it like he didn’t just have two orgasms in the span of less than two hours, and when Lucas swallows with his bold intrusive gaze locked deliberately to Eliott’s own he swears aloud.

“You really weren’t kidding when you said I wasn’t sleeping tonight, were you.” It isn’t a question.

“Not at all,” says Lucas, cheeky, and when Eliott embraces him he clings fiercely back. Tonight is a night for washing themselves sparkling clean just to get dirty all over again.

**Author's Note:**

> There's been a lot of discussion about whether or not they went all the way, and to be honest, I really don't know. I didn't have a plan when I sat down with this one but I'm happy with the way it went; Lucas is obviously not shy at all for Eliott anymore but I can see both ways. Maybe they did, maybe they didn't, but this one flowed naturally so I went with it (and maybe since Lucas has promised Eliott he's not sleeping tonight there's a bit more to the end of this story). Hope you guys liked it :)
> 
> If you wanna freak out about everything Skam with me come on over to my tumblr :)


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